


As Time Goes Bi

by NichePastiche, wisteria_lodge



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean Winchester, Closeted Character, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s07e12 Time After Time, Hand & Finger Kink, Handcuffs, Internalized Homophobia, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Misunderstandings, One Shot, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Oral Sex, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Period-Typical Homophobia, Smut, Sub Dean Winchester, Suit Kink, Time Travel, historically accurate slang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NichePastiche/pseuds/NichePastiche, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisteria_lodge/pseuds/wisteria_lodge
Summary: Dean was struggling to play it cool after finding himself face-to-face with his childhood hero. But the stress of being stranded in the 40s was definitely starting to get to him. Which is how he discovered that being a hunter wasn't the only hidden part of Eliot Ness' identity never meant for the history books.
Relationships: Eliot Ness/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47
Collections: Supernatural





	As Time Goes Bi

**Author's Note:**

> **A note on the historiography (since we give Dean such a hard time about it...)**
> 
> I have folded two of Eliot Ness’ ex-wives into just one, and massaged the dates a little so Dean can catch him between marriages. Apart from that, all the details of his life are accurate - although we’ve written him as a classic hard-boiled noir detective, and not a portrait of a real person. The historical figure probably wasn’t gay, and there were never even any rumors about him the way there were about J. Edgar Hoover. 
> 
> All of the 1920s and 1930s slang he uses is accurate, including "wolf" and "punk" for "top" and "bottom." He has a slight misunderstanding with Dean over the word “blow” (which he thinks means “leave.”) The line about how “nobody likes the absent treatment” is referring to how no one likes dancing with someone who just kind of checks out and doesn’t give you anything to work with. 
> 
> We wrote Dean with a pretty bad grasp of queer history since he gets most of his history from film, and earlier queer narratives were generally pretty implied due to the Hays Code. He’s also a little distracted here, so is mis-remembering details of _Apollo 13, A Streetcar Named Desire,_ and _Casablanca._
> 
> Also I may have watched some 1930s porn for this, and it is correct that blowjobs were not nearly so much of a cultural thing.

As Dean watched, the lights in the little diner across the street went out. 

Eliot Ness drummed fingers on the Plymouth’s steering wheel. Heavy shadow cut against his face and hat and the sharp lines of his coat. His mouth got thinner. Dean had managed to keep his _Untouchables_ references to a minimum, but he still wasn’t totally over being on stake-out with Eliot Ness - hunter by night, bringer-downer of Al Capone by day.

“Looks not to be showing,” Ness said, in that Twilight Zone voice with a bit of a purr to it. Like an engine. “Might as well get a few hours R&R, before the joint reopens.”

He glanced over at Dean, with that keen level look. Like he was reminding himself Dean really was from the future. “Suppose you need a place to drop. You got bills, but the stamps are green where they should be red. Last thing I need right now is to have you taken in for passing slush.” 

He considered Dean a moment longer. 

“I’ll take you by my place.” He pulled the stick shift.

"Thanks man. You're a life saver."

Ness nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He put the car in gear.

Usually Dean got antsy when other people drove. Maybe it was because cars in the forties were the size of boats, or because Eliot Ness was a good driver, but the ride was smooth. If it had been longer he might have been able to sleep. Which was sort of a big deal, for him.

It turned out that Ness' place was a run-down walk-up at the outskirts of town. Dean couldn't look at it without thinking _FBI safehouse,_ but Ness must have misread his expression because his body language got stiffer. "Funding," he said. "Brass don't see what we do over here as so important."

"Hey, four walls and a roof, that's about all I need. Lights and running water, just a bonus. Definite upgrade from what I'm used to. Kinda had a... uh..." what was the best way to diplomatically tell Eliot Ness that the FBI was a huge pain in the ass? "Had a misunderstanding with the law a while back. Shifters. You know how it is. Kinda hard to hide in one place too long when the FBI wants you for bank robbery."

Ness was looking at him, and Dean didn't know what to make of his expression. He should probably just stop talking, before he made himself look even more stupid.

"Love to help, kid. Could, if you lived in the here-and-now."

Dean cleared his throat, and looked away. "Got people I need to get back to."

"Girl?"

"Not anymore. Tried the white picket fence thing, wasn't for me. Just me and my brother now."

Ness took his hand off the steering wheel and held it in the air. Flipped it, so Dean could see the wedding ring he was wearing. "Manacle's for show. Anyone in the know will tell you I'm out on parole." He laughed, a little harshly. "Wasn't berries for my career, I can tell you."

Dean blinked at him. "Gonna be honest, I only got about half of that. You're married?"

"Was."

Dean still wasn't clear on the whole _parole_ thing. This was a different time... but he was pretty sure it wasn't _that_ different. Ness seemed like a nice guy. And Dean was pretty sure he'd remember if his childhood hero had been arrested for killing his wife. That seemed like the kind of thing they'd have to mention in the movie. "Uhh… you got a divorce?"

"Yeah. I got a divorce.” Ness looked at him strangely. "I suppose I got to approve of your wanting to check. She's living in New York City now, drawing pictures for the fashion magazines."

"Oh thank God. Got me confused with the whole parole thing. Thought maybe she'd died or... anyway. Good she's okay, but that’s still gotta hurt." Dean reached over to pat Ness’ shoulder, before he could second guess himself. "I've been there. I well, I've never been married, but - I get it." Dean realized he'd left his hand on the shoulder a beat too long, and took it away. "Just because it was the right call, doesn’t make it easier."

Dean suddenly had a very strong urge to open his phone and call Lisa or Ben. Just to make sure they were okay. It was a pointless urge at the best of times, and being stuck in 1944 just made it worse. 

Ness raised his head and looked at Dean, suspicious. "This isn't how this talk goes. Most times I get asked if she was sleeping around, or I was. Or if they're trying to be a wise guy, who was hitting who."

Dean looked at him like he'd suggested going vegan or buying a hybrid. It took him a few seconds to find his voice but when he did, it was a little hostile on Ness' behalf.

 _"Excuse me._ They _what._ What the _hell,_ man?"

Ness shrugged. "Not a nice thing to divorce somebody, Dean." He was facing forward again. But the hands on the steering wheel were holding too tight to be really casual, and his voice was a little too bitter.

"Can be when what you do is too dangerous to keep them around." Dean sounded a little bitter himself. "Can only lie to yourself so long before you realize they're safer without you."

"Shouldn't have married," said Ness. Now he was staring straight through the windshield, like he was watching something. Nothing was there though, not even any people. Sheet of newspaper, blowing across the street. "Shouldn't have even gone there." He slapped his hands down on the steering wheel, shook his body in a way that made Dean think of a wet dog. "Your damn softness is catching."

"Kinda seems like you're the one who's so into us having a chick flick moment."

Ness made a movement like he was about to get out of the car. He actually put a hand on the door handle, pulled. Then stopped himself.

"Listen," he said. "Wasn't right to whistle. At the duds Ezra set you up with. Don't get the wrong idea."

“Dude, that's not funny. I thought I looked awesome in these clothes.” Now Dean felt betrayed. “You telling me I still look like a time traveling dumpster diver?"

"Nah, you look a real sheik."

"Is that... a good thing?" He looked down at himself. Probably looked like he was trying too hard. 

"Is it a good thing,” said Ness. “You know, a sheik, like a movie star. Like Valentino in the Sheik. Thought you liked going to the pictures."

Obviously Ness wasn't hitting on him. That was too far out for even Dean to believe. So what did the guy feel the need to apologize about?

Dean must have been making some kind of face, because Ness turned to him. "Look," he said again, and there was that calm, reasonable Fed who had interrogated the bookie. "There's been a lot of rumors flying. About Mr. Hoover. And me, looking hinky with no wife and no kid. You're out of place and got no choice other than believe I'm on the up-and-up. So like I said. Wasn't right to do that wolf-whistle."

"So, whatever you're worried I think, I obviously don't? It's fine. Let's just go inside."

Ness closed his eyes like he was trying to keep off a headache. "We keep saying things different. Say that last part again, only pretend I'm an idiot."

“I don't think you're the type who goes around cat-calling people?"

"Okay," Ness opened the car door properly this time. "So long as you don't think I'm a fairy."

Dean got out of the car too, and slammed the door a little harder than he meant to. "Look. I get that you’re from the past, but cut the homophobic crap, or at least don't say it around me. Alright?" He'd had a long day and didn't want to have to do this now. Just one more reason getting stuck in 1944 was going to suck. "Seriously, is _that_ what all this is about? You know what, apology un-friggin-accepted."

Ness spun to face him, and for a second looked like an old-timey gangster, in that big coat and pinstriped suit.

"What the hell's got _you_ in a twist? First you're burned up that folks aren't nicer to me about my divorce, then I say I'm not a fairy and get this?"

"Again with the anti-gay crap. Can we not? I really don't want to have to punch the one guy I've made friends with in this decade."

Something he had said made Ness pause. His head tilted, and Dean couldn't see anything past the fedora brim. 

"Homophobic. Anti-gay," Ness said, mostly to himself. "If the future's so nice that no one says bad things about nobody, sure you want back. Here I was thinking it was a problem the Bureau was after you. But it sounds like they'll just sit you down with a head doctor and let you talk about your feelings."

"Look. You got a problem with queer people, then you got a problem with me."

Dean had a hunch Ness' friend Ezra wasn't entirely straight either. And it didn’t help that she reminded him of Bobby, and Bobby was dead now. At least, dead now in the future. Now when Dean was, he didn't exist yet. Which was just as bad.

Ness was silent. He glanced around the dark, empty alley. It was the first time Dean had seen him nervous. "Let's talk inside. Somebody might be around."

Dean stepped back and made a show of giving Ness plenty of room to walk past him.

Ness moved up the front stairs, twisted the key in the lock and then shouldered it open with a little too much force. He disappeared through the dark entrance, left it open behind him. Dean followed, and pulled the door shut as he tried not to think about how he probably couldn't shoot Ness without causing a time paradox of some kind. Which meant if a fight broke out, he already knew which one of them walked away from it.

Ness was facing away from him, in the dark little hallway. There was a single lightbulb with a string hanging above his head, but he didn't turn it on.

"I'm queer too," said Eliot Ness. "Never done anything about it. Don't plan on doing anything about it. But I know I am."

Dean leaned his weight back against the door for a second. He wasn't going to die in 1944. Not right now, anyway. 

"Dude. Not cool. I thought I was about to be a hate crime statistic or some shit."

Ness turned on the light over his head. The hallway was stripped down and plain, but it did have a coat rack, and Ness pulled off his overcoat and hat, and ran a hand back over his hair. Then looked at Dean. He had those very thick short eyelashes that kind of made guys look like they were wearing eyeliner. But his eyes looked sad.

"You're going to stay safe so long as you're here," he said.

Dean took off his own coat and gloves and hat for something to focus on. "If we kill Chronos, I could be stuck here for a while." Forever.

"That's the truth," said Ness. "I meant what I said."

Dean just nodded. He wasn't ready to think too much about a future stuck in the past. He changed the subject. "So. Are you gay? Bi? Ace? Should I be using different pronouns?"

"You could be talking Chinese for all I know." Ness sighed. "Men are attractive. More than they should be. And I don't feel the same way about dames. Don't know if I've got a word for it that isn't an insult."

Dean thought, and considered his words carefully for a second before speaking. “You did right by her, getting that divorce. You’re a good man.”

"She's better off."

"Safer too. Being a hunter puts enough of a target on your back. Being the guy who put away Capone probably doesn’t help."

Ness pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pocket. Then he smiled at Dean, but it was more like a snarl. "Lotta people out there don't like me." With his side part messed up like that, he looked younger. "Sakes alive, I can’t sleep. Drink? Don't say yes if you're done in."

"Handsome man invites me back to his place for a drink? Not going to say no to that." Dean wasn't flirting with any real meaning behind it. It was mostly just nice to know he could. But Ness looked at him sharply.

"What was that?"

"You wolf whistled at me earlier, I'm flirting with you now. I figure that makes us even." Dean winked, before hanging up his coat and hat. "Seriously though, I can stop. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Ness paused for a long minute. Long enough for the room to start feeling really uncomfortable again. "Where you're from - " he said finally, before correcting himself. _"When_ you're from. Is queerness - " He cast around for the right word. "Legal?"

"There's still a ways to go, but gay marriage is legal in some states, yeah."

"Marriage," said Ness. He came a step closer to Dean, looked into his face like he was trying to read his mind. "You're for real."

Then he moved back. "I promised you that drink."

One of the doors off the hallway opened to a jumbled collection of chairs, desks, a couch, a bookshelf, a pile of boxes. It looked more like a storage room than anything. But Ness found a mostly-full bottle, along with two tumblers that didn't match. He poured a couple fingers for both of them, set one down. Ness tipped back a good measure of his. "You're telling me a lot." He kicked a chair so it was roughly facing Dean, and sat.

"They can adopt kids too," said Dean. 

Now the drink was on the floor and Ness' hands were laced together behind his head. Dean took his jacket off and hung it on the back of a chair before leaning against the edge of a desk. 

Ness glanced up at him."You're still packing that heater."

"Huh?" Dean looked down "Oh. Yeah. Hadn't noticed. Practically sleep with the thing. Can never be too careful."

Ness did another one of those half-smile smirks. "You are a hunter."

"Hey, you mind if I mark up your floor?"

"What's that mean."

"I've got a knife, but if you had a deposit or something I'll use something more temporary." Dean walked over and nudged the doormat out of the way with his foot. "Chalk. A marker. Paint. I could use blood but I'd rather not."

"You want to set up warding."

"Can't sleep without it."

"Knock yourself out. I guess there's paint somewhere but couldn't say where."

"Awesome." Dean took his pocket knife out and carved a Devil's trap just large enough to fill the doorway, but small enough to be covered by the mat. He wasn't at it very long before Ness came over to look, curious. He pulled a little notebook from his breast pocket, snapped off the rubber band, and started to carefully copy down the symbol.

"This allowed?" he said. "Or this like betting on races before they're run?"

"It's allowed. Time travel's not common, but it's not the first time I've done it either. Just try not to use it _too_ much. It'll make the fight a lot more difficult for my people if the demons are expecting it. And don’t put one on the ceiling. That could seriously screw us over."

Ness snorted. "You got it. You're one tough cat, Dean Winchester." He knelt, getting a better look. Dean didn’t say anything. Eliot Ness had just complimented him. And yeah, he could admit to himself that maybe he had a bit of a crush, but he didn’t want to make it weird. 

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable…” Dean said, again. “But there's a symbol that can keep demons from possessing you. If you're interested."

Ness' eyes got a short of hungry sheen. "You'll show me?"

Dean stowed his knife and stood up. "I'll have to take my shirt off though. It's tattooed on my chest and I can't draw it from memory."

Ness stood as well. "Ever taken out a collar bar? Easy to catch the stitches."

"I have never looked this fancy in my life. Any help would be great. Not sure I even know how to get out of this style holster."

Ness walked closer, close enough for Dean to realize that they were exactly the same height.

"Gotta lose the firearm," said Ness. 

Now that they had a Devil's trap at the door, Dean felt safe enough to do that. The hallway was tiny, so he had to turn slightly to squeeze by and stow his pistol under the end of the couch. "I'll sleep here. It's a lot better than the floor." He perched on the end of the desk.

"You'll be on the bed," said Ness. "No discussion." And then his hands were at Dean's neck, one holding the collar in place, while the other carefully unclipped and slid the pin out.

"Bossy. I like it."

Ness' lips parted.

The pin disappeared into his suit jacket. He took a half step closer, and reached around Dean's back, to undo the one buckle that held the elastic of his shoulder holster in place. The whole thing slithered down into his hands. And maybe Dean was going a bit too far with the flirting, but he could just not pass up this opportunity.

"You sure you want me in your bed,” he said. “When you could have me on your desk?"

Ness' voice came out soft.

“What.”

"I really do have an anti-possession tattoo. That wasn't just a line. So you should probably get that first. But after that? If you want to. Yeah."

"Fuck," Ness said.

He moved between Dean's knees, and his fingers were undoing the buttons on his vest. Then they moved up, to unknot Dean's tie. And Ness made eye contact with him.

"Can I kiss you?" Dean was holding onto the edge of the desk to make sure he kept his hands to himself. He didn't want to rush things, do more than Ness was comfortable with.

He heard a small breathy sound. And then Eliot Ness came in to kiss him. He tilted Dean's head back, and there was an arm squeezing around him, fisting into the cotton of his shirt. Ness kissed hard, and deep, and direct. No hesitation, no halfway there. He'd made a decision, and stuck to it.

One of Dean's hands wormed their way under Ness' suit jacket and the other made quick work messing up that sexy old fashioned hairstyle he had going on. Wrapping his legs around Ness' waist, Dean pulled him closer still. The hands against him were shaking slightly, as Ness kept the kiss going for as long as he could. And when he finally pulled away, he got down a few lungfuls of air. Dean tried to fix some of the mess he'd made of Ness' hair, mostly as an excuse to soothe what could easily be headed towards a panic attack if they weren't careful. He'd be worried about that from a closeted guy in 2012. Much less 1944.

So Dean kept his own breathing slow, and even, and stroked Ness' hair for a minute before speaking. "We don't have to do this. I could blow you instead if that's more your speed."

"No. Don't leave."

"Wasn't planning on leaving. I'm just saying, we've got options."

Ness had his hands on Dean's shoulders and was just kind of touching him, through the cotton. Dean was good to stay like that and just breath with him, for however long he needed.

"Don't take this the wrong way," said Ness. "But you strike me as kinda a punk. It's the matinee idol looks. And if that's your rag, more power to you. But do you think you might be willing to switch it up? Play the wolf?"

Dean felt his eyebrows practically meet his hairline. No way he'd understood that correctly. "You want me to top?"

Ness nodded. His eyes were steady and his breathing was shallow.

"We can do that." Dean was still a little cautious. "You said you've never been with a guy before?"

“Nope.”

"Are you sure you don't want a blowjob? Because I really want to go down on you." Dean let his eyes wander. "You look amazing in that suit. Like something straight out of a wet dream."

"You're a long drink of water yourself. But I’m not getting what you’re saying. Better spell it out in smaller words." 

"I want to suck your cock while you run your fingers through my hair."

A sharp inhale from Ness.

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I'm good at it. It's been years since I had a cock in my mouth and I want that again."

Ness pushed Dean's hair back and away from his face. Dean made a show of biting his bottom lip and looking up at him through his eyelashes.

Ness snorted. "Don't mug for me kid. You're already a doll."

Dean had to kiss him for that. He didn't have a choice. Not when Ness said cute old fashioned crap like that.

Ness' arms came around him, but they weren't shaking this time. And when he started kissing back, it was a little more leisurely, a little less like Ness thought this might be his only chance to do it. This was better. If Dean was stuck in 1944 - and there was a good chance he might be - this was the kind of kiss they could build something on.

When Ness broke away, he looked Dean in the eye, and nodded.

"Wait. The tattoo." Dean shrugged out of the button-down so that he was just in the undershirt, which he pulled over his head and threw at Ness - who caught it, smirked, and then reached out to touch Dean's bare shoulders.

Ness was still wearing all his clothes. The little notebook came out of his breast pocket again as he pulled back far enough to see the tattoo, considered the problem for about two seconds, then ripped a page out. Held it against Dean's left pectoral, and started to trace the black contours of the shape that were dark enough to show through the paper.

"Dude, that tickles."

Ness smiled a slightly predatory smile, and folded up his note. Then he bent his head to just kiss over where he'd been drawing. Right in range for Dean to kiss the top of his head. Because that was friggin adorable. Eliot Ness was not supposed to be adorable. Dean wrapped his arms around Ness' waist. Leisurely kissing as his hands slowly made their way to his ass. "What do you say we take this to the bedroom?"

"I'm game," said Ness. “Just know. Haven’t always been able to raise the flag so reliably. If I roll the dice wrong, it’s nothing to do with you. You’re everything airtight.” 

“I, uh….” Dean found that uncomfortably easy to relate to. “I get it. Stuff happens. Things get... complicated.” Sex had been a lot more difficult after getting back from Hell, but he’d worked through most of it by now. “If it hadn’t been for Lisa I’d -” Dean cut himself off. Ness didn’t need to hear about how wonderful his ex was. That wasn't a sexy conversation. 

A thought occurred, and instead of making their way to the bedroom just yet, Dean decided to stay where he was, settle into the hug a bit more. “How long's it been since someone just held you like this?”

 _"Soft."_ said Ness. But he didn't actually move, and Dean's arms stayed around his waist. "Nobody likes the absent treatment."

"I'm serious. I asked if you were ace earlier, but I figure there's a good chance you don't even know about that. Just want to cuddle? We'll cuddle. We don’t do anything you don't want." Did Dean still want to give Eliot Ness a blowjob? _Yes._ He _absolutely_ did. But not if Ness wasn’t completely on board.

"See, if you were to ask me, I would've told you that 'ace' meant 'good.'" Ness ran his hands bracingly over Dean's shoulders, over his biceps. "I want to keep on touching you. That's where I am."

"I'm just checking because you said, you'd never done anything with a guy, and didn't plan to. And I thought we could... not do anything together in your bed, if that sounded like your idea of a good time?"

Ness brought a hand to the side of Dean's face, and was silent a second. "Reason I said that was because you weren't meant to think I was asking for something. But now I know that you're all about what you're seeing. If not now, when?"

Dean tilted his head to keep Ness' hand against his face, holding it in place with his shoulder. There wasn't really anything he could say to that. So he turned to kiss Ness on the wrist, without letting him go. "I still want to know what you feel like in my mouth. Even if you can't get hard."

"I can arrange that." 

Dean grinned. "Awesome."

"Hear you like it when I get bossy. Put the screws on you a little." Ness’ hand traveled down Dean's neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of his throat. 

Dean melted a little into his touch. He might even moaned slightly. But who could blame him? Here was the untouchable Eliot Ness, touching him. Dean's mind helpfully conjured up a bunch of fun possibilities involving handcuffs and impractically sexy interrogation techniques. And he swallowed, and nodded.

"Maybe I should tell you to get on your knees." Ness paused for a second. Then shrugged, and turned to wink at Dean. "Put your hands where I can see 'em."

Dean's first instinct was to put his hands above his head, but real life wasn't sexy, so he held them out for Ness instead. "Sure you don't want me on my knees?"

"They don't say that in the pictures where you come from?"

"They do, but they say it in real life too. And it's... a lot less sexy when you've heard it at gunpoint. Maybe we need some kink negotiation before we try this one. Though fair's fair, it's usually more confusing. Hands in the air. Put the gun down. Don't move. Get on the ground. Hard to do all that at the same time. It's a hokey-pokey of death."

Ness' hand spread wide and possessive over Dean's collarbone, and pulled him closer. Dean's legs came a little wider around his hips.

"How about you tell me how we do this."

"Who’s we? Do you want to know how I handle the FBI, or how I want to handle the hot guy in my arms right now?"

"I guess I ought to be squeezing you for all the ways you get a clean sneak on the Bureau." Ness leaned in, close enough to whisper in his ear. "But I won't."

Dean shivered, and squirmed a bit. Ness had a way of making his weird old fashioned slang sound intimidating and sexy and Dean was into it. "Letting me off easy, huh?"

"That's all in what you mean by 'easy.'" Ness was so close that Dean could feel his breath, right behind his ear.

"Great minds think alike. Come on. Let's get those clothes off so I can get that sexy Humphrey Bogart lookin’ ass of yours in bed.”

“So that’s the kind of guy you’re keen on. Makes a few things fall into place.” 

Ness lifted him down off the desk with those big hands, then bent his head in a quick ‘follow me’ gesture. Dean trailed after him down the narrow hallway, and watched as he opened a door, reached into a bathroom, and grabbed a thing of - oh damn, that was a thing of vaseline. And Ness was completely casual and matter-of-fact about it. 

The next door down was the bedroom, and Ness shrugged off that pinstriped suit coat, draped it over a hanger, and put that on one of the dresser knobs. The tub of vaseline, he put on top. 

This bedroom was a weird interior room with no windows, and if Dean had to guess, he would say that was why Ness liked it. With the soft yellow lamp on the nightstand lighting the place, it felt more like firelight in a cave. The whole thing was very neat, and very plain, white sheets on the bed and grey blankets folded over the foot.

And Ness in his white shirtsleeves looked more naked than some naked people did. Dean had honestly forgotten he had a shoulder holster on under there, he wore the weight of it so naturally. But he could see it now, cutting into the fabric of Ness’ shirt, as he pulled out his Smith & Wesson, checked to make sure it wasn’t loaded, and left it next to the vaseline. 

Ness was so sure of himself. So confident. Everything about the way he moved had a quiet masculine strength to it and none of it felt like an act. Dean just stood in the doorway for a second, staring. Just taking in the view. Feeling awkward and out of place, but not uncomfortable exactly. 

Ness turned to look at him, with those dark eyes and half-smile. 

“Don’t stand out in the cold.”

The moment was gone, and Dean was back in familiar territory again. "Oh, I'm not cold." He walked up to Ness and got a good grip on his hips. "You get me hot and bothered just looking at you." His plan had been to grind their hips together, but he felt kind of weird being that direct about things with a guy this fancy. So he just kind of stood there instead. "I don't think they make guys like you anymore where I'm from."

Ness chuckled. He didn't have to look as he pulled out the pin holding his collar together, or undid his tie one-handed. He was looking at Dean.

Dean was looking at Ness' hands.

"You sure you want me to top? Because I gotta say, you've got some seriously sexy hands."

Ness paused, and then put those hands over to the backs of his shoulder blades, pulling him closer. "Don't you worry kid. I'll be using these no matter what we do."

"They're good hands. Strong hands." Dean leaned against him and closed his eyes for a second. He wrapped arms around Ness. "The rest of you is pretty strong too." And not in that super sculpted underwear model way either. Ness was sturdy. "I'll top, but I think I want you on top when I do."

Dean stroked his hands up and down the sides of his torso, still hidden under that shirt. They'd have to do something about that soon. The hands on his shoulders traveled down his back, to the waistband on his trousers.

“Help me out a little," Ness said. "Threads in the past got a lot of buttons.”

"You look nice in them, but that’s a _lot_ of buttons." Dean tried not to focus on how weirdly domestic it felt while he worked on the ones near the top. Almost like straightening someone's tie. "You won't even really get to wear T-shirts until what? The 50s? Have to wait for _Streetcar_ at least. Thank you James Dean."

Ness smiled. He had been undoing his vest, but now seemed to have forgotten about it. "Noticed you turned up letting your undershirt show. Kind of a look there."

"Damn. That means no wet T-shirt contests. You don't even have bikinis yet. Or jeans. Or women wearing pants. The past sucks. I bet your porn is terrible." Dean was starting to think he might go crazy if he got stuck here. "At least I've got you. You've got me covered for gay suit porn."

"How far back you think you've gone? We got bluejeans, and dames in pants.”

"Jean shorts, man. The real short kind. Yeah, I know it's not classy but they look great with the really sexy cars you also don't have yet." And then Dean felt awful for implying that Ness’ car wasn’t sexy. "I didn't mean _your_ car. Because, like... that plus the suit and the compartment you added in the back. You've got this whole thing going on that really does it for me."

"Glad to hear it." Ness smiled, and showed some teeth this time. Made him look a little wolf-like. 

His hands were travelling lower and lower down Dean’s back. And now, they were copping a feel. "It's a good sounding future. Nice to know we run out this nonsense in one piece." He pressed forward a little, enough to get a leg between Dean's thighs.

Dean pulled him into another kiss. He was so _put together_ and _self-assured_ and it just made Dean want to take him apart even more. Pressing against him, Dean gave up on the buttons in favor of feeling up Ness' chest. And back. And arms. And ass. And pretty much whatever he could get his hands on. Ness pulled off his shirt the rest of the way and just let it fall. Underneath he was wearing what looked exactly like a white Henley, and he pushed Dean off enough to get it up and over his head.

He was thick, and muscley, and had chest fuzz that was black like his hair. But he was also soft and sturdy, solid and real and extremely touchable. There was a ragged looking scar just above his hip bone, like something had taken a bite out of him. And another along his bicep that looked like it was from a really deep, badly healed scrape. Dean knew a bullet graze when he saw one. 

His first instinct was to kiss it, so he did. He was never one to second guess himself in this kind of situation. Ness sucked in a breath, and pulled Dean close. You didn't ask questions about that kind of thing, so Dean just held him tight. Now, without three layers in the way, Dean could feel the deep, deep breaths he was taking.

Ness held Dean against his shoulder for a second. Then tilted his face up, to get at his mouth. He kissed just as hard as he had before. But this time, parted his lips slightly. 

Dean followed his lead, and deepened the kiss into a slow, sensual thing. He let himself start to grind a little against Ness' thigh, one hand holding onto his hips, while the other roamed the gorgeous expanse of chest hair he'd been hiding. The longer he kissed, and the longer he touched, the more he felt Ness' muscles uncoil. At first, Dean didn't notice he was brushing his thumb over the bite mark on Ness hip. When he did, he had to make himself stop. Pulling back, trying to catch his breath and his runaway thoughts.

"Huh." Ness made an amused little sound, looking down at the front of his pants. "Nevermind then."

Dean wasn't... totally there anymore. He was trying, but it was hard. Not a lot of bite marks in 2012. And Ness looked up, and the lines between his eyebrows creased. He sucked in his lip.

Dean knew he was holding him too tight. He blinked some. His eyes were burning. Focused on a patch of wall just over Ness' shoulder.

"All right. Let's sit down."

Dean nodded, still a little bit somewhere else.

Ness guided Dean until he had him sitting on the edge of the bed, and then detached. Sat on the nightstand. Above Dean, leaning down.

That was.... not great.

"Look at me."

Dean did. Immediately. But then - he took a deep breath and managed to get himself back together. "What'd you go all the way over there for?"

"Don’t know what's got your head in a bad place. Might be me."

"You don't have to sit there."

Ness pushed off the nightstand to sit with him. Dean was trying to figure out what to say, and came up with a few options discarded all of them. "How'd you... get the bite mark?"

Ness looked confused.

It couldn't be a werewolf or a skinwalker, or Ness would be one too. Ruled those out.

And then Ness’ face got easier. He touched his scar. "That? That's no bite. That's a lucky shot from a floozie with a broken gin bottle."

Dean collapsed into him like a puppet with its strings cut. "I thought..." Never mind. Didn't matter what he'd thought. "Maybe a dog or something." Ness shifted to take his weight, and got an arm around his back. "Sorry," Dean said. "Thought I was past this. Lisa got me through the worst of it. I'll be okay. Just give me a sec."

"Looks to me like you got some shell-shock."

"I've been to hell. Sucked. Not a fun time."

"I missed the two wars. Real close each time. Lucky."

"It was.... I sold my soul to save somebody." No reason not to say who. He'd already said this much. "My brother. I couldn't just let him die, so I took the deal." Dean felt a little sick. Telling Lisa was one thing, but telling another hunter was - worse. And this was _Eliot Ness._ The one man Capone was never able to buy.

Those eyes got sharper, and Ness looked a little more like the detective he was. "You turned informant to save your brother." Sighed. "And I don't hold it against you. We've all got our price. Yours speaks better of you than most."

"I sold my soul to a demon. They sent dogs after me and dragged me to hell."

"And so you don’t like bites, and you set demon traps by the doors."

"They're not going to show up to drag me back or anything. The Devil's gate we opened up is still shut so most of them are still locked up. The big guy is too. I don't think demons time travel and anyway we locked Lucifer back up again so he's not a problem either."

Ness leaned back, enough to look at Dean. Kept a hand on his shoulder. "You're throwing a lot at me real fast. I'm hearing that it's all clear though. You know what, forget all this. You should sleep. I'll shake you awake if there's a nightmare."

"I'm okay. Really. I sleep fine. I've lost a lot of good people but other than that, I'm good."

"How about you tell me what you need from me?"

"If I'm stuck in the past, can I stay with you or will people get too suspicious? Normally I'd just live out of my car, but I - don't have one."

Ness thought about it. "You can stay here, until you don't want to anymore. Nobody pays attention to this flop. Reason I like it. I'm on the road, back and forth between a lot of places, not just Ohio. You could be some help. Or if it doesn't strike you right being a Fed, Ezra likes you. She's a smart dame. She'll put you to work fetching rare, cursed junk. I'll get you one of those new social security numbers. Won't be so bad."

"I know what the Manhattan Project is, and you like me. I'm basically a Fed already."

"Sounds like you've got my clearance beat. _I_ don't know what the Manhattan Project is."

"Oops. I'll tell you more about it once the war's over. You'll find out then anyway. Nukes. It's the thing where they invent nukes."

Ness kissed him, closed-mouthed, like he was sealing a deal or proving a point.

"The US puts a man on the moon in '69,” said Dean. “Two men, actually. And one more stays in orbit. They stick a flag in it and everything."

Ness smiled a real, slow smile. "The moon?" 

"Yeah. They made a movie about it starring Forrest Gump."

"Hey..." Ness nudged Dean's ankle with his foot. "How much longer does this war go on?"

"What day is it?"

"November 4th, 1944."

Dean did some mental math, which took a minute. "If I had a calendar it'd be easier so let's just say we've got about a year to go. Wait. Which theatre? I thought you meant Japan but you don't know about the nukes yet."

"So war in Europe finishes first. Makes sense."

Dean froze for a sec but then he calmed down again. "Right. We're in '44. I'm good. He's not in Poland anymore. Sorry I uh... knew a guy."

Ness raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"From Hell. Last time he was topside was last year. He never really updated his wardrobe either, but that's okay. It's not like you'd ever wear the same uniform."

Ness shook his head, hesitated, and then curved his hand around Dean’s shoulders. 

"So long as I'm not bringing anything up for you."

"You couldn't be more different. But that's why I had to call it quits earlier when you said to get on my knees. I was thinking the old fashioned cuffs might make me freak out on you and we didn't have a safeword yet."

Ness' eyebrows crinkled. "Wasn't planning on cuffing you." He paused. "What's a safeword?"

Dean had to laugh at himself. "You would be vanilla. Just my luck I guess. Okay, so don't judge, but a safeword is for things like - if I asked you to cuff me because it's sexy when _you_ do it, and you'd want to know I could tell you if I needed to stop. That's what safe words are for. It's a way to say 'stop' and 'no' when you might already be using those words for other pretend things. So like, if I said 'Poughkeepsie', or something else we'd agreed on, you'd know that meant stop and we'd stop."

"So it's a game," said Ness. "The other guy pretends to go tough, but you can make him stop."

"Yeah. It's sexy when it's just pretend."

Ness nodded, considering. "It's good from the other angle too. You're not worried you're making somebody do something they don't want."

"Yeah, you get it. Consent is real sexy." Dean reached out and started playing with Ness' chest hair again. "It's a big part of why I even like that kind of thing."

Ness closed his eyes, and laughed. "I think maybe you've been asking me to fuck you all night." 

"You just now figuring that out?"

"Cut me some slack, I'm new at this."

"I know, which is why I thought we'd start with something simple like a blowjob. It's pretty much the same with a guy as it is with a girl. A mouth's a mouth."

"Kid, the only girl who'll do that is a pro skirt, and that's never been my thing."

"What? No way!" Dean could not believe how lucky he'd gotten. Obviously this was the universe trying to make it up to him for the fact he wouldn't get to drive his Baby anymore. "You're telling me you've never had anyone give you head before? Not even good head. You mean nothing at all?" Dean moved to straddle Ness and hooked his fingers in the waistband of his pants. "These are coming off. I need your cock in my mouth now. Hello officer, I'd like to report a crime in progress. Not nearly enough people are having oral sex in this decade, you need to help me fix this."

Dean didn't actually attempt to take Ness’ pants off yet, just made a show of pouting about how he was still wearing them. "Seriously, Ness. How do you want to do this? Because I really want to do this." He was excited. Giddy. There was no hiding the sheer gleefulness he felt at the idea. It was almost like time travel had given him the ability to deep throat, if you adjusted for inflation.

Ness' hands cupped Dean's ass in his hands, and his fingers massaged once, twice as he pulled him closer. "First thing," he said. "You call me Eliot. Second thing, is I want you to kiss me like you’ve been doing. Seems my cock hasn't been that interested in anything in a long time." He reached down, and popped the top button on his fly. "Maybe get your hands on me. Make sure everything's silk before I get your lips."

Dean pushed him back onto the bed and followed him down for a kiss.

Ness - Eliot? sighed into Dean's mouth, and opened again.

"Eliot." Dean tried out the name. It felt strange. A bit too personal for someone who had a movie made about their life. The guy who put away Al Capone. The name didn't seem nearly harsh enough for that, but neither did the man who wore it. "It's a nice name."

Underneath him, Eliot took Dean's hips, and the muscles in those powerful thighs began to grind up into him. They kept things slow. They had the place to themselves, nobody needed the room. Those big hands ran up and down Dean’s back, and one landed in his hair. Eliot’s muscles relaxed under the weight of the body on top of him, as Dean kissed deeply and thoroughly. And the looser he got, the more Dean could feel the beginnings of something hard pushing against his hip. 

Dean felt a swell of pride accompanied by a renewed wave of desire. The warm body beneath him and the strong hand against his back made him feel secure and wanted. This wasn’t like any of the fantasies he'd had in the years since he’d stolen that copy of _The Untouchables_ from Blockbuster. He had imagined Eliot Ness would be rougher, more forceful. He’d gotten off imagining being thrown around, pinned to a wall or bent over a desk by this man, yet somehow he found himself melting under a firm but gentle touch and feeling weirdly protective instead. 

Kissing his way along Eliot’s jaw and down his neck, Dean was careful not to leave any marks that could draw suspicion. He’d been selfish earlier. So focused on getting the chance to sleep with the famous Eliot Ness that he’d forgotten how much more important this had to be for Eliot. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to blow you. I’m not trying to pressure you. I just want to make you feel good.” Dean pulled away, but stayed on top. He brought his hand down to cup the growing erection in those well-tailored pants. “Know you want me inside you and I want that too. If I can’t blow you, that’s fine. But where can I kiss you while I open you up? I want to take my time with you, and I’m gonna need something to do while I’m down there. Tell me how to make you feel good?”

“Your first idea about my cock was a pretty good one,” said Eliot, on his elbows looking down at Dean, voice all amused.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Dean didn't think he'd done anything to earn that particular look.

"You're an indecisive son-of-a-bitch. And you pressuring me, that's a funny thing to be sick about." Eliot shrugged, smiled. "I'm just grateful you've got my lower half to play along."

His hand snuck down to his fly as he undid one of the buttons there. And then another.

Every move he took was heavy and deliberate and slow, as he ran his fingers over the back of Dean's hand, pressing it a little harder against his cock. Dean was barely able to draw himself away long enough to pull him into another kiss - before he just had to drop to the floor, on his knees between Ness' legs.

Dean looked up at him, running his hands over those thighs, as Eliot sat up on the edge of the bed and made his legs wide. Cupped a hand around Dean's chin. 

Dean leaned into his touch, closed his eyes for a moment, and smiled.

Opening them again, he felt like he could breathe a little bit easier, and his head was a little bit clearer. Less cluttered.

Ness stroked his other hand into Dean's hair, scratched a little with his fingernails. It felt affectionate.

Dean hummed softly in approval. If they were going this route, there might be a few things he should try to explain. He wasn't sure he’d be good at explaining. Lisa had been the one who’d figured out he was going into subspace. She'd been the one to do all the research, not him. But Eliot kept hitting all his major kinks without even trying. And might freak if Dean seemed to suddenly check out right in the middle of things.

“You know kid,” said Eliot, slowly. “If you wanted me to fuck you, I’m sure I could figure it out.”

"Mmm?" Dean was so deep already, and it had happened so _fast._ It was hard to really pay attention to what was being asked when all he wanted to do was say _yes,_ because of who was asking. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, "Sorry, what? I'm good. You're just... here. And real and hot and it's intense. It's good though. Really good."

Eliot ran fingers through his hair some more. "That sounds fine."

Dean shivered again at his touch. He was going to need to take these pants off or risk ruining them. No way he'd be able to do this without touching himself. Not unless there were handcuffs involved.

"I should ah... Talking is... wow."

Eliot ran a thumb over his lips, and Dean took that thumb into his mouth and closed his eyes in happiness.

There was something about being on the floor in front of Eliot Ness that was making it near impossible not to sub for him.

Should've talked about this kind of thing before they got started, he knew that. But Dean also knew his limits and as long as he could still talk, they’d figure something out. He felt floaty, and like the air itself had gotten cozier somehow.

He missed Lisa.

That was the thing that let him come back up for air. He hadn't had a chance to play this way with anyone since her.

Right. Eliot. This was supposed to be about him. Not Dean.

But Ness' hand was still stroking his cheek.

Dean's eyes fell closed again, and he leaned more heavily into Eliot's touch as he sucked and kissed at the thumb in his mouth. Ness had really nice hands.

"Sure you don't want to suck on something more interesting?"

Talking. Words. Dean could still do that. He could...if he just…

Dean nodded.

He really should have explained things more, but only a distant part of him was still thinking about that, a part of him that was becoming more distant all the time. And the fact was, he trusted Eliot. There was nothing he was going to ask that Dean wouldn't want, even when he was thinking clearly.

Eliot undid the rest of his buttons, and carefully drew out his cock. Half-hard, already pretty big. What was that thing they said about men with big hands? Dean's lips parted slightly, of their own accord. It was obscene just how much he wanted this. He'd _never_ wanted to go down on someone more than he did right then, but he took a moment just to take in the sight before him. 

"Oh, wow. This is awesome."

He had to take his hands off Ness' thighs long enough to get to work undoing the buttons on his own pants, but his eyes were transfixed.

"Smart," said Eliot, voice at a low purr. "This really does it for you, huh?"

Dean groaned and had to lean his head against Ness' leg to catch his breath for a second. That voice, and that tiny bit of praise was enough to reroute all Dean's blood to his cock. He nodded, where his face was pressed against Eliot's thigh. "Yeah. It does." His voice a little shaky, but so was he. "This. You."

Eliot left Dean's head where it was, and pet his hair. "Good," he said. "So goddamn lucky you wanted me too."

Dean actually whimpered. He felt like he might cry if Eliot kept this up. He could have gotten stuck in the past with absolutely no one, and no way home but Eliot had found him. And now he wanted him. He'd given him a place to stay and someone to belong to. 

"How about you get those trousers off? Let me see the whole picture."

Dean kept his face where it was and kissed Eliot through the fabric, while he fumbled his way out of his own clothes. Sitting back on his heels he had to laugh. "Not used to this many buttons."

Abandoning all attempts at looking sexy, Dean sat his ass down on the floor and got to work on his shoes.

"Stand up for me, and I'll help you out."

Dean was quick to do as he was told. He liked doing what he was told. It made that strange happiness bubble up inside him that had him feeling like maybe he was a good person sometimes.

Eliot got fingers in Dean's belt loops and pulled him forward, smirking. He spread his legs a little wider to get him closer, and then those hands were at his crotch, undoing buttons. Eliot was taking his time. Dean couldn't help rocking his hips forwards slightly, wanting more from those gorgeous hands than he was currently getting. He was still wearing his 2012 underwear, and Eliot got fingers under the elastic waistband as his 1944 pants started to fall away.

Dean was hard. So hard. And Eliot's hand felt so good. And they were _Eliot's_ hands. Not his own as he jerked off to some imagined fantasy based off a movie. 

Eliot jerked everything down so it pooled around his ankles, and Dean was able to step out of it. And stand, totally naked, in front of him.

Dean felt exposed and it was perfect.

"What a good looking cock you've got." Eliot looked up at him. "Matches the rest."

He put his hands against the skin of Dean's hips. And then those hands began to explore, the curve of his ass, the fuzz around his cock and lower belly.

Dean's knees felt weak. He had to hold onto Eliot's shoulders to keep them from buckling.

"Oh fuck. Oh sweet Jesus. Eliot." Dean's hips shook with the effort of staying still.

Eliot touched Dean's ass to bring him closer. A hand pet across his bare hip, held him still. Dean could feel the heat off Eliot's skin, he was that close. Then Eliot leaned even closer. That big hand wrapped around his cock.

And Dean was a mess. A glorious, needy mess of desire and the need to please. His hips jerked once, sharply into the circle of Eliot's hand before he fell forwards and dragged Eliot into a kiss just as sloppy as he was.

Eliot laughed under his mouth and shifted Dean's weight onto one of his thighs. Kissed back, deep.

Dean made embarrassing little noises into the kiss, and only just managed to keep from grinding helplessly against Eliot's thigh. An arm wrapped around Dean's waist, supporting him.

There was something about being held in someone's arms like that which just really _did things_ to Dean on a primal level. Thought was a distant memory. Something he used to do, but didn't have to bother with anymore. He felt, and wanted. No more room for worrying about finding a way back home. Everything was give, and take and need. And right now, he needed this.

The arm around his waist had him melting further into the body underneath him. He had to curl his fingers into Eliot's hair and hook his chin over his shoulder or he might melt away completely and disappear. Which would be fine, except he was having fun already, right where he was. He ran his lips along Eliot's neck. The shell of an ear. Eliot brought his other hand up around him, and laid a hand across the back of his neck.

Dean broke the kiss, and bowed his head. Eyes closed, just breathing. But he was smiling. God was he ever smiling.

"Sssssh, doll. I got you. This is a good look on you."

Dean stayed there, in that place, and leaned into those strong, steady hands.

There was nothing he had to do right now. Nothing.

"Want you." Dean mumbled, "Please." It was too soft and too polite to be begging.

When he didn't get an immediate answer, he took a slow, deep breath. He'd ask again. He'd beg, if that was what Eliot wanted.

"All right." Eliot said it softly, in his ear. "How about you kneel like you were doing?"

Dean sighed in relief, and kissed his way down Eliot's body until he was kneeling back on the floor. Just like earlier, but without any clothes to hide just how hard he was. Dean waited there, with his hands behind his back so Eliot could look at him.

He'd stay there as long as he was told to. He might even stay like that all night if it weren't for what it would do to his knees in the morning. He wanted more, but he was good at following directions. He was good.

Eliot reached out to touch his hair, and then his lips. "Damn you're a beauty."

Dean stared up at him, not even trying to be sexy. Just intent on the man in front of him.

Eliot bent over a little, enough to run arms over Dean's corded biceps, tense behind his back.

"Means a great deal that you trust me."

Dean's eyes closed again at the praise as Eliot's hands left trails of phantom warmth along Dean's body.

"If you want..." he said slowly. "I can cuff your hands like you've got them. Just if you want."

Dean hummed happily and looked up at him. It wasn't a clear yes, but it definitely wasn't a no. It wasn't really either because it hadn't even totally registered with Dean as a question. More like Eliot was trying to make up his mind about how Dean would look best.

And Eliot did come to some sort of decision. "You stay right there. This won't take long."

"Promise?" Dean managed, a bit to his own surprise.

Eliot brought a hand to the side of Dean's face. "I do promise. You've gone and done so much for me and here you are giving me this. I am going to take care of you." Dean leaned forwards, into Eliot's hand and hummed again. Clearly pleased this time.

"Good," said Eliot, and touched Dean's hair again.

Just like last time, the praise went straight to his cock. He closed his eyes again and waited.

There were some sounds of fabric moving, like Eliot was quickly undressing. Then nothing. Then a drawer opening, and then a metallic clinking.

Then he felt the warm, fuzzy expanse of a chest against his back. Dean leaned back into that warmth without meaning to.

Eliot kissed where his neck met his shoulder, and hugged an arm around his middle. Dean tilted his head to the side to give better access, and started to grind back. This wasn't what he'd been expecting, but he was into it. He hadn't really been _expecting_ anything. He'd stopped that along with the thinking.

He could feel a cock pressing against him, and it felt hard. Eliot's hand found one of his, pulled it across Dean's chest and over his shoulder, to kiss the wrist. Those strong fingers curled into his, and squeezed.

Dean used his other hand to brace himself against Eliot's thigh as he continued to grind against him. 

"Want you inside me." The words just sort of fell out on their own. Escaping alongside various other noises of pleasure.

Eliot made a low, contented purring sound. "I want you badly, doll. Just gonna let you get me just as hard as I can get. After that it's just muscles. Muscles stretch. I'll make sure you're ready."

Dean relaxed back into him again and practically purred. He'd gone a little boneless after the way Eliot had been talking. Rearranging Eliot's grip, Dean brought their joined hands down to his own so far mostly ignored cock.

"Oh no," said Eliot. "That's for me to take care of." He touched his thumb to Dean's bottom lip. "Get my fingers wet for me, will you?" His other hand curled around Dean's wrist, bringing it away from his cock, around his back.

Dean took Eliot's fingers into his mouth and licked, and sucked and took maybe a weird amount of pleasure just from that. But he lost all ability to feel self conscious when he was like this, so it didn't matter.

He felt cool metal against his wrist. Then the click-click-click-click of the handcuff sliding into place. Not too loose, not too tight. If anyone knew how to do it right, it was Eliot Ness. And then the other half was clipped around his other wrist, smooth and automatic. And the instant that was done, Eliot pulled his fingers from between Dean’s lips, and wrapped them around Dean’s cock.

“My god you’re incredible,” he purred.

Dean moaned, low and deep within his chest. It felt like Eliot had unlocked something so deep inside him he shook with it. That big hand began to stroke Dean’s hard untouched cock, the wet making for an easier slide.

“This part I’ve done before,” murmured Eliot. “Just the same as doing it on me. Even the angle’s pretty much the same."

Dean moved his hips with each stroke of Eliot's hand, grinding against the warm length of the cock trapped between their bodies. It took a second, but with Eliot's help, he was able to let himself stop even that. Just relax into the arms around him, and the warmth along his back. With the cuffs on like that, there was nothing Dean was expected to do. Nothing he _could_ do. It was enough to let himself exist and be taken care of for a little while.

"Good," said Eliot softly. One hand stroked along his cock, and was picking up speed. The other had wrapped tight around his chest. And Eliot kissed Dean's neck.

Without his hands, Dean was relying on Eliot for balance. If he fell, he couldn't really catch himself on anything other than his face or maybe an elbow. But he wasn't worried. Eliot had him. Taking care of him, as his cock started to leak at the tip. Swirling fingers around the head. Playing with his slit.

Dean turned his head and tried to kiss him without either of them falling over. It wasn't something Eliot had asked, but Dean needed it.

Eliot took a hand off his cock and maneuvered him backwards, so that instead of kneeling he was sitting. Those strong hands guided Dean even further back, down to the floor. It was a bad angle for the handcuffs, and for an instant his muscles pinched. But then Eliot was straddling his hips, and pulling him up in his arms to kiss. So there was no pressure on the handcuffs anyway. Eliot kissed hungrily, like it was impossible for him to stop, like he was never going to get all he wanted.

Dean was a little overwhelmed. Not in a bad way. Just overwhelmed.

And in this new position, with every kiss, Eliot's cock rubbed a little against Dean's. He wanted to touch and hold on and grab Eliot's hair and he couldn't. But not being able to was good too.

Dean was totally at his mercy like this and he was totally safe. He'd left talking behind. All he could do was breathe gasping, shuddering breaths. Sharp hisses and slow content sighs.

Without any warning, or even any particular reason for it, he started laughing. It started quiet but grew steadily into real laughter.

Eliot started laughing too, in sympathy. He hauled Dean up, and he had his shaking feet under him for a second, before Eliot plopped him on the edge of the bed. He sat between Dean's knees now, petting over his thighs and grinning.

It felt like Dean had too much energy inside him and it all needed to go somewhere. And so he was laughing. It wasn't like he could fidget with his hands when they were cuffed like this. It was as good an explanation as any. Dean grinned down at him once he got himself a little more under control, but couldn't think of anything to say.

Eliot dove right back in, and now his slick hands were massaging Dean's tight, sensitive balls.

Dean started laughing again when he tried to reach for him without thinking, only to have the cuffs get in the way.

"Ah! Fuck! Mercy, show some mercy, man. Crap." Between the laughter, the handjob, and the cuffs, Dean had to give up and just kind of fall to the side on the bed. Or risk falling out of it.

He wasn't quite used to the old fashioned cuffs, and kept estimating things wrong. They were a far cry from the fuzzy pink novelty kind.

Eliot stood up, and reached behind him, unclicked one cuff, and then the other. The bastard hadn't even locked them.

"Hey, fuck you." Dean kissed him, still laughing a little.

Eliot rolled him back onto the bed, and straddled his hips again. Dean brought his hands up to immediately begin playing with everything he couldn't reach before.

Like that gorgeous ass. Eliot hummed in approval.

Things hadn’t gone exactly to plan, but they hadn’t really had much of a plan going in either. And as far as mistakes go, they'd only made fun ones so far.

"You close?" Eliot said.

"I can calm down enough to think straight if you give me a sec."

"Because I'm thinking I finish you off right now, and then I fuck you."

"Oh, oh fuck." Dean rocked upwards against Eliot. "Okay. Forget calming down. That's not a thing I can do anymore. Yes. Yes please. I-" Dean stopped himself. As the reality of being in 1944 hit him again.

"You don't have anything do you? Because Capone died of syphilis. And as fun as this is, that's not how I want to go." Dean realized what he'd just said. "I don't think you fucked Capone! Nobody thinks that. I just meant-" Dean cut himself off. He was honest-to-God blushing. He looked like an idiot in front of Eliot Ness.

Eliot looked surprised, and then skeptical, then amused. "I have not... fucked Capone," he said. "Syphilis, huh?"

He shook his head, clearing it. "This might not be the fun answer. But it's the truth. I haven't done this so much. Don't know what it is, but when a girl touches me, doesn't matter how nice she is or how pretty she is, feels like oil on my skin or something. For a long while, just thought sex wasn't for me. 

Dean pulled Eliot down into a kiss. Just held him there for a second. Foreheads touching.

Eliot breathed out, slowly.

Dean was... He was having trouble talking all of a sudden, and he felt a bunch of emotions catch in his throat. One hand stayed buried in Elliot's hair but the other rubbed gently up and down his back. He found his words again and hoped he'd figured out a way to say things that Eliot could understand. 

"You're gay. But even if you didn't like sex at all, with anyone, that wouldn't mean there was something wrong with you."

“Felt like a mean joke when that newspaper man started calling me Untouchable. My wife didn't think it was at all funny. I can tell you that for free."

Dean held Eliot a little tighter. "I'm glad you stopped having sex with people you didn't want to have sex with." He tried to tell himself that he was sure Eliot's ex wife was a good woman. That people back then didn't know all the same things. But he still couldn't help feeling a little angry. He kept it to himself. "If topping is a problem for you, we don't have to do it like that."

"I was thinking doing something real different might help. But I also know I want to fuck you. That's the truth. You say interesting things, but it's also real attractive when you get all quiet and simple. So if you're worried about going there again, don't."

"I'm gonna want to give you a few pointers, but thanks. I might." Dean almost didn't say anything, but decided there was no harm in it. "I don't usually do that. It happens sometime, but not this much. Or this easy."

Eliot smiled that half smile. "Hell kid. Haven't you heard I'm immune to flattery?"

"Pretty sure I did hear that, but I also heard you're a fan of the truth."

Eliot hauled him up for a long kiss. It was a good kiss too. Dean couldn't help noticing how nicely Eliot fit in his arms. 

He broke away. "Those pointers sounded interesting."

"Good, because I want your fingers inside me like, yesterday."

Eliot lightly pushed him into the mattress, and climbed over him. His eyelids were half closed, his nipples were hard and so was he. "Happy to oblige." He just sounded - incredibly turned on.

"First. Lube. Lots of lube. That's the most important thing. But it looks like we've got that covered." Dean inclined his head in the direction of the vaseline on the nightstand. Eliot looked over at it too, and nodded. He climbed off, and went to get it. Dean hauled him back onto his lap as soon as he could. "Better."

Eliot gave the top an extra screw and tossed it to the side, to get his hands over Dean's hips. Dean sat up and kissed him again. Just because he could. Not an elaborate kiss. It just kind of was.

"If we're in a hurry, I can do this part while you watch?" Dean was fine either way.

"We're in no hurry," said Eliot. "I like giving new things a try.”

His hands stroked over Dean’s hips as he pulled himself backwards on the mattress. Then those hands curled in, confidently parting Dean’s thighs. Eliot settled his muscled bulk between them, one hand wrapping around Dean’s cock - enough to distract him, but not enough to bring him off. And the other went between Dean’s legs, scoping out the area, the skin behind his balls, the tight round muscle of his asshole. The touch was gentle, but it wasn’t light. Dean felt every single movement of those fingers. 

Eliot had really manly hands. Everything from the shape of them to the confidence with which he used them. Not that forced, over the top kind of masculinity either. It was a quiet confidence that ran through everything he did. Not a performance. Part of him.

Dean would have thought being the target of that sharp focus would make him feel pinned, like an insect to a cork board, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Eliot Ness had mastered the art of making every touch feel like a strong reassuring hand on the shoulder. Dean wouldn't have thought that would be sexy, but it was.

Taking a deep breath and sinking back into the mattress, he let himself be pulled back into that place where thinking became less important. “Go slow. Obviously you’ll be gentle. I’m not worried about that. But if you keep going like this, play around a bit? Light and teasing, that kind of thing.”

Eliot took both hands away from Dean's skin to open the jar of vaseline, and when they came back his fingers were coated with something a little thicker than modern lube, but pretty darn close. "Teasing?" Eliot stroked down Dean's cock with a slick hand, just once, before taking his fingers away. "Get your legs a little more open for me.

The pad of his thumb was just over Dean's asshole, moving in slow circles. And Eliot was above him, looking down, watching his face.

"Just a sec," Dean took the pillow that was behind his head and tucked it under his hips so they'd be situated at a better angle for this. "Okay. That's better."

Eliot smiled at him.

Dean felt his heart skip a beat.

Honestly, who gave him the right to look that sexy? It was unfair.

If they did find a way to send Dean back to his own time, there’d be no color pictures of Eliot there. Definitely none where he looked like this, anyway. Maybe Eliot would let Dean take a crappy phone camera photo of him, but nothing would compare to the real thing, so he didn’t ask, content to brush his thumb across Eliot’s cheek. He should stop, before he let the moment stretch too long and things got weird.

Eliot pulled himself further up, and let his weight fall against Dean's chest. He was rubbing between Dean's legs still, with the flat of his hand, more like how you'd tease a girl. The angle had his lips at Dean's collarbone, so he did something with his elbow and his forearm to get a hand on Dean's upper back to haul him up into a real kiss.

Then Dean felt the tip of one slick finger nudging into him. "I'm big," said Eliot, and from literally any other guy that would have been a brag, but with him it was just a relevant fact. "I'll take as much time as I need with you."

Dean rocked himself against Eliot's hand, his hips chasing after that touch. He brought his legs up further and rose up to claim Eliot's lips in another kiss.

Eliot got a hand around his back, so as he slowly pushed in with that one finger, he held Dean in almost a modified wedding carry. Only difference was that hips didn't stretch wide like that in a wedding carry.

It was unspeakably tender. Guys usually weren't like this. Not in Dean's experience anyway.

"Oh fuck." Dean closed his eyes and sighed. "You’ve got big hands too."

Eliot brushed over Dean's lips. "Not too big for you."

"No," Dean had one hand on Eliot's hip, while the other explored the muscles of his back. "Not too big. Perfect."

He could feel Eliot take a long, satisfied, full-body breath.

The hand pulled away for a second, and then it was back, pressing into him, coated with more vaseline, going just a little bit deeper.

"I like this part. Lot of guys who're new at this forget to take their time here, and I-I...That. Do that. Yes...Oh damn, Eliot. Do that again. Not that, what you were doing. Focus on the rim like- Yeah, like that." Dean closed his eyes and rested their foreheads together. "Just like that."

Eliot was using a thumb to play with him, already stretching him around his big hands. He pulled Dean a little tighter to him, touched his lips to his hairline.

"Come on. Say something. You've got a nice voice. Use it," said Dean.

"Trying to focus on you, doll. Want to make sure all the sounds you make are good. Want to make sure you're not holding onto any pain in your neck or back."

Dean pulled him close, and pressed a kiss into Eliot's shoulder, "I should be doing this for you. Not the other way around. It's not fair. You've got all this..." Dean searched for a word that didn't sound too judgmental, "You've got so much crap from when we are now, and I don't. I should be the one taking care of you. Try to make up for lost time." He couldn't. No one could. Lost time stayed lost.

"You're not getting it," said Eliot. Maybe that hand fucked against him a little harder. "This, right now, means that all those other times it didn't work, wasn't me that was wrong. And don't think I don't notice how you've appointed yourself chief character witness, to defend the way my life's been going." Eliot got a hand in Dean's hair to pull his head back, and his kiss was fierce.

"It's appreciated," he said, as his lips moved away.

Dean was left a little breathless from the kiss.

He reached between them and took Eliot in hand. He didn't stroke him or play with him yet. Just felt the size and warmth of his hard cock where it was pressed between their bodies, sandwiched between Dean's hand and abdomen, his own cock nestled alongside it.

"Even if you were just some hunter and not a badass FBI agent, I'd still want to help. Besides, you're a total babe. Teaching you this stuff is fun."

Dean felt the body against his breathe, and then relax. Carefully, Eliot pulled out of Dean and unwound from around him. He moved back, enough to lean against the headboard - and then leaned forward, so he could pull Dean towards him, into his lap. Dean's thighs spread around his hips. Eliot's arm curled around Dean's back, holding him in place, while his hand - now re-upped with lube - found its way underneath.

Dean was distracted by the warmth and insistence of those lips, and the abdomen his cock was now pressed tight against. But there was teasing and stretching along his rim, and now two blunt fingers were working their way inside him. Eliot pulled Dean close. "Use my fingers," he whispered, low.

Dean began to fuck himself in time to the slow rhythm he'd started using for the hand on Eliot's cock.

He couldn't quite get the angle he needed. "Just missed it. You're too deep. A little further out, angle more towards my belly button and you've got it. Unless you're being a frustrating bastard on purpose. Then I guess-"

Eliot obediently adjusted the angle of his hand.

Dean bit his lip and stifled a moan against Eliot's skin. "Found it. That's....oh that's good." Dean was fucking himself harder now.

"I can make you beg some other time."

"Good, because I want you to fuck me." Dean's thumb played over the head of Eliot's cock. "I want this inside me. You'd have to go slow, because I'm not totally relaxed yet, but you totally could, probably."

"You still feel too tight to me, sweetheart. Good. Real good. But give yourself a second."

Dean made a noise that was frustrated in every sense of the word. "Okay, you're right. But you're really hot and I want you."

Eliot began to bend and move his fingers inside Dean, stretching.

"I want to watch your face as you sink into me. I want to feel you inside me. I...ah. This," Dean played his fingers up and down the length of the shaft and around the head, “is gonna feel so good inside me. You don't even know."

"God damn I want you too."

"Promise you will." Dean was loving the gentle pressure of those fingers inside him. "If you want, I mean. Later. Not now. Right now, I want you like this."

Eliot's breaths were sounding like hisses now."Of course I promise. You think I'm about to pass this up? With you so beautiful and warm and willing?"

Dean whined a bit. It felt really fucking good to be wanted like this.

Eliot batted Dean's hand away from his cock, and wrapped his own around it. It was slick with lube. He found Dean's mouth again.

Dean had no clue what he was going to do once they killed Chronos and he was stuck in the past with nothing from the future left to do, but at least he had this. If he let himself think about it too much, he started to feel panicky and out of control so instead he focused entirely on Eliot. His hands, his mouth, the warm hardness of his cock sliding past Dean's. That made sense. That was something he could have.

Something he wasn't going to find a way to fuck up.

"You're getting tenser, not looser sweetheart." Eliot didn't stop, but his rhythm got gentler. "What's got you twisted? I could give you the bracelets back again."

Dean stopped and tried to catch his breath. He was shaking a little, and had to blink a few times before he could speak, but he was okay. Or he would be. If he wasn't, he'd say something. "Probably a good idea. Might help."

Eliot moved his hand to stroke Dean's hair. "You got it," he said. "Let me up, okay?"

Dean kissed him first. Slow and a little unsure, but it kept him grounded and out of his own head. Eliot met him in the kiss. The hand in his hair was firm, the thumb petting the nape of his neck, comforting. Dean melted against him. He knew he’d gotten way too invested way too fast, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He'd probably be just as invested even if they weren't fucking.

Eliot got off the bed. Naked, he walked over to the dresser, picked up the set of handcuffs. Then looked at his hand for a moment. Went still. Set the cuffs down next to the Smith & Wesson. Worked the wedding ring off his finger.

Dean felt himself relax some, and felt a little bad about it.

Eliot turned back to him. "Sit up."

Dean turned and sat on the side of the bed, feet on the floor. He was still wearing his socks, which he honestly preferred, but didn't do much because it wasn't a very sexy look.

Eliot stood in front of him, and put hands heavily on his shoulders.

Dean looked up at him, curious.

"This time around, I'll lock the cuffs," he said.

Dean gave him a long slow blink and smiled like he'd eaten something delicious. "Oh you're good. Too good. Save some sexiness for the rest of us. How's anybody gonna compete with that?"

Eliot’s hands moved closer to Dean's neck, dug into the tense muscle there. He smiled.

Then - it was sort of incredible how fast he moved - he pushed Dean's head down between his knees, pulled his wrists together, and cuffed him. And there was the unmistakable sound of a key in a lock. He turned away, to put something small and silver on the nightstand.

Dean's breath caught in his throat - and his heart did summersaults -

"That's friggin hot." He sounded a little surprised. He really shouldn't have. That was kind of the entire appeal. He still made a mental note of where the key was. Just because Dean liked to sub didn't make him less of a hunter.

Eliot started to trace lines, using just the side of a fingernail, down the tendons of Dean's neck and the muscles of his shoulders and chest. He rolled a nipple against the pad of a thumb, when he got there. His touch kept Dean from going anywhere, kept him present in his body in a way that worked more effectively than the most powerful biding spells. And there wasn't even any magic in it. Not that kind, anyway.

Then Eliot kissed the line of neck that was left exposed. He almost kissed his lips - but not quite, teasing. "Why don't you get your mouth on my cock."

"Please." It was more a whisper than a word.

Now Eliot actually kissed Dean, but pulled away after just a second. "Show me how it's done."

Dean sank to his knees again on the floor and looked up at him, totally enraptured by the sight. He licked his lips in anticipation, and shuffled a little closer.

Eliot reached out, and buried a hand in Dean's hair. Then stroked his own hand up his cock a few times. It was big, and flushed. "How about you get this in a state where I can fuck you with it."

Dean closed his eyes and let the gentle pressure of the hand on his head coax him forwards. He peppered tiny little kisses up Eliot's inner thigh before nuzzling gently at Eliot's balls. Just because he didn't have his hands free didn't mean he had to ignore them. Dean gently drew them into his mouth in a soft, open mouthed kiss, his nose pressing against the underside of Eliot's cock.

Eliot sucked in a long, ragged breath. His fingers raked through Dean's hair.

Dean hummed softly, pleased with himself and what he had done.

"Damn, sweetheart. You weren't pulling my leg when you said you were good at this." He nudged himself forward, a little farther into Dean's mouth. One hand stayed in Dean's hair. The other came around to the back of his neck.

Dean kissed him again, before sitting back on his heels and looking up at him for a second. He wasn't totally sure what he was searching for, but whatever it was, he found it. Without looking away, he leaned in and placed his lips against the head of Eliot's cock, not taking it in his mouth just yet. Fully aware of what a pretty picture he made like this.

Eliot's dark eyes met his. And he smiled.

Dean kissed his way along the shaft a few times before finally taking a deep breath, relaxing his jaw and sliding Eliot's cock into his mouth.

"God."

He didn't try anything too fancy, mindful of the fact he didn't have use of his hands to keep Eliot from thrusting.

Eliot stroked against his cheek."You better know how good you look."

Dean hummed in the affirmative, his lips around Eliot's cock.

Eliot's fingers knotted into his hair, slightly pulling. Dean took that as his cue to hollow his cheeks and start to really hone in on that quiet place in his mind where he could just exist for a while. He didn't have to try so hard. He was wanted exactly as he was.

Eliot pushed forward a little into his mouth, reflexively. 

Dean pulled back off before he was at risk of setting off his gag reflex, and licked a stripe down the side of Eliot's cock before taking it back in his mouth again. You couldn't really blame him though. This was his first blowjob.

Eliot sighed in relief.

Dean switched things up and started lavishing sloppy wet kisses all around the sensitive head.

The hands in his hair felt perfect. So did the nails that scratched softly across his scalp. He could just do this and he'd be happy. Eliot was making deep, round, satisfied noises. His eyes were closed, and he held Dean's head close to him, but didn't push.

Dean took him in his mouth again. Deeper this time, and almost excruciatingly slow. He closed his eyes and let the world shrink until it was only the feel of the cuffs on his wrists, the hand in his hair, Eliot's cock heavy and warm against his tongue. And the noises. Eliot was making the most wonderful little noises. Even just the sound of his breathing was sexy.

The only thing that kept Dean from touching himself was the fact Eliot had him locked in those handcuffs.

A hand underneath his chin, and Eliot was gently pushing him back, off his cock. "I'll come if you do much more of that." He was sounding just a little breathless, as he pet over Dean's bottom lip with a thumb.

Dean licked his lips, but sat back on his heels and looked up at Eliot expectantly. His skin tingled all over. He felt like he was floating.

Eliot had to take a few deep breaths, hands on his knees, to get himself back under control. He was flushed and overwhelmed and Dean thought he looked beautiful like that.

Then he sank down, wrapped Dean in his arms, and kissed him properly. "Thank you," he muttered, into his hair.

Dean was warm and fuzzy and floaty and he liked being held like that. Eliot kissed his hairline, and he returned the embrace the best he could, leaning his body into Eliot's arms so that their bodies were as close as possible. The closest he could manage was taking one of Eliot's hands in his, lacing their fingers together behind his back. Eliot chuckled, and squeezed Dean’s cuffed hand.

"Thanks yourself." Dean said it like an affectionate fuck you.

Eliot kissed him once more. Hard, matter-of-fact.

“Want to keep the bracelets on as I fuck you?”

“Part of me wants to say yes, and do this with me face down, hands cuffed behind me and you fucking me into the mattress so hard I’m walking funny tomorrow.” Dean hesitated for a second, “But if we do that, I don’t get to see what you look like when you push into me for the first time. And I kinda really want to see your face for that.”

"I was always going to be looking at you as I fuck you. No two ways about that. But I could always get the cuffs above your head, thread 'em through the bars of the bedframe."

Dean worried his lip between his teeth. Ran his thumb back and forth over Eliot's hand for a moment, considering. "Could do that. Might have to safeword at some point, depending on how it goes, but we could try." Dean had his head sort of tucked against Eliot's shoulder, and those arms around him felt really nice. He didn't think it would be a problem.

Eliot's eyes got kind of heavy and dark. He smiled. "Get on the bed for me. On your front."

Dean leaned forwards and kissed Eliot on the side of his chin before getting to his knees and then his feet. He had to be a bit more careful without his arms for stability. He had never really noticed how much he used them for balance, unless he couldn't.

With absolutely zero grace or elegance, Dean flopped his way sideways onto the bed.

He shot Eliot a mischievous grin and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I know. I'm one fine specimen of a man. No need to say it."

Eliot smirked, and picked up the key from where he'd put it. The mattress dipped as he sat. He didn't unlock anything, just shoved Dean onto the bed, and ran fingers over the curve of his ass.

Dean wiggled around trying to get his knees under him enough to raise his ass off the bed a bit. It turned out to be surprisingly difficult to do without the use of his arms, and the friction against the sheets was distractingly good, as was the hand on his ass. Not to mention the entire Eliot fucking Ness that hand was attached to. Hot damn.

"What's your game there?" Eliot's voice sounded amused, as his hands traveled up, over the dip of Dean's back to his cuffed hands. A click, and his right hand was free.

Immediately, Dean reached for Eliot's cock. "Don't know if it's like this now. But in the future some people say this thing about how bisexuals are all greedy indecisive bastards. And we're not. Not usually, and not because we're bi. But damn do you ever bring out the greedy indecisive bastard in me."

A hand under Dean's shoulder was enough to flip him onto his back. Eliot sat across his hips, and he was heavy. "Want everything, do you?"

Dean whined, and answered with a hurried nod. He had to look away for a second because Eliot was too blindingly sexy. Fuck, Dean was not ready for this. Dean was so ready for this.

Eliot ran a hand, soft from the vaseline, along Dean's cock. Dean was so hard, and his dick was so sensitive, but the slide was so easy. But then his fingers were gone, and he had caught both Dean's wrists. Eliot leaned down, stretching Dean's arms up and over his head, claiming a kiss when it turned out his lips had landed in the right place.

Dean surged up into it, wanting and needing more. Eliot was right, Dean wanted everything.

With the ease of somebody who had probably cuffed a few perps to radiators, Eliot clicked the metal tight around Dean's wrist. There was a clink, a metallic sound - and just like that, Dean was handcuffed to the wrought-iron bedframe.

Dean was happy to find out that, stretched out along the bed like this, there was only one thought that had him reconsidering things. "Don't tickle my pits, man. Don't let all this power go to your head and turn you into some kind of tickle maniac. I can't safeword if I'm laughing so hard I can't breathe."

"Wasn't going to." Eliot was just taking the time to admire Dean's body, with no distractions. Those hands were on his biceps, stroking down to his shoulders, his pecs. "And those cuffs come off whenever you say. Don't need any kind of special word."

Dean reached a bit further above his head so he could get a good grip on the headboard, and push a bit. It seemed sturdy enough. "Okay, but we're gonna have one anyway. It's Poughkeepsie. That goes for you too. We've had too much communication weirdness for me to be okay risking it."

Eliot nodded. Then looked up, and made eye contact with Dean.

Dean reached for him but was stopped by the cuffs. "Kiss me?"

Eliot lay across his body, and kissed him deeply. An arm around Dean, another in his hair. When it seemed like he was about done, about to pull away - he just surged back, back for more.

For a 1940s closeted gay man on the government's payroll, Eliot was doing amazing with all this.

He reached down to adjust his cock against his abdomen, get it alongside Dean's, so that when he moved - there was friction.

Dean wanted to run his fingers through Eliot's hair, or rest his hand on the small of his back but he couldn't because of the damn cuffs. It was frustrating, but that was kind of the point.

"Ah fuck. I want to hold you now,” Dean complained. "See? This is why we have a safeword. Because the cuffs are fun. I like this. Let's keep doing this. I just wanted to bitch about how much I'd like to hold you now I can't."

Eliot leaned down to say something, right in his ear. For the first time in a while, he sounded just a little unsure. "You feel safe?"

Dean turned his head to kiss the side of Eliot's face. "Take my hand and move back enough so you can look at me?"

Eliot did as he asked, getting hold of Dean's hand and getting himself up on an elbow.

"I couldn't explain it if you asked me, but these things make me feel safer in a lot of ways. Because you're you. I've got baggage, but none of it's you."

Eliot kissed him one more time, and then sat up, straddling his hips. “Got to admit. I like seeing how bad you need a touch, but knowing you have to wait on me for it. Didn't think I'd be such a bastard in bed."

"I did." Dean pointed out. "Stop apologizing. I'm getting exactly what I signed up for."

"Guess you are." Eliot's voice was getting slow and low again.

He pushed himself back, taking all friction and skin contact away. Not being able to use his hands just made Dean that much more aware of the fun kind of tension already building inside him. "It's gonna be way too easy to make me to go all zen like this. Sure you're okay with that?" His cock was achingly hard, and Eliot was gorgeous. "Last chance to start with something more vanilla."

Eliot's hands were on his hipbones, coaxing his legs further apart.

"I like it when you go soft for me. I like it when you're mouthy too." 

"Oh I like where this is going. Tell me more about how much you like my mouth." Dean was being a smartass.

Eliot bent close enough to his cock that Dean could feel his exhale against his skin.

"You've got a clever mouth on you. And it looks damn good around my cock."

"You bite your lip when you're thinking. It's one of your only tells, but I noticed it the first time we talked. Haven't been able to stop noticing."

Eliot, who had actually been biting his lip, stopped and gave Dean a crooked smile.

"Haven't lied to me yet. If you had, I'd know your tell."

He sat back up. Got a pillow under Dean's ass the way they'd set it up earlier.

Dean wasn't totally comfortable with the idea Eliot could read him like an open book, but it seemed only fair, considering he'd gone into this knowing stuff about the guy he probably wouldn't have chosen to share on his own. "Don't ask me no questions, and I won't tell you no lies."

"You're savvy to my reputation. I like questions," Eliot brushed the head of Dean's cock with just the pad of a thumb. Dean pulled against the cuffs attaching him to the headboard and tried to thrust up into Eliot’s hand.

A slick hand was starting to stroke between his legs. "Can you still take my fingers?"

Dean hooked a leg around Eliot's waist, "If I can, will you tell me what a good job I'm doing. I liked that."

"We'll see," said Eliot. And with that, he slid a finger into Dean.

"Easy," he said, as he went slow. "Just like that."

Dean exhaled and focused on relaxing around Eliot's fingers.

Eliot seemed to think about something for a moment, then shrugged, and laid a kiss right on the head of Dean's cock. His fingers finally circled the shaft, giving Dean something to push into.

"You don't... have to. I mean, your lips look like they were made for this kind of thing. But you don't have to."

"Let's see if you can take two fingers. Then maybe."

There was already another finger teasing around his rim.

Dean focused on breathing. On his own breathing and the feeling of Eliot's breath warm against his cock.

"Good," said Eliot, as that second finger nudged inside. "Your body's a lot more loose than it was."

Eliot was gentle, and soon Dean was taking two of his thick fingers, thighs spread wide. Eliot kept those fingers where they were, slowly starting to fuck in and out. And then he looked up, made eye contact. And closed his lips around Dean's cock.

Dean's mouth fell open in a silent gasp of pleasure. He was caught between those fingers and that mouth and he couldn't decide which felt more perfect.

Then the cuffs pulled at his wrists, and the change was instantaneous.

"Balls. Poughkeepsie. Goddamnit. I thought I was past this. Fuck! I'm fine. I'm fine. Crap!" Dean was mad at himself for not thinking this through. "I'm fine. It's not you. I swear. I just... I'm really friggin annoyed this is even a problem."

Eliot moved precise and fluid and fast, like someone in a fight. It took him about three seconds to get the handcuffs off. The second his hands were free, Dean pulled Eliot into a rough kiss. "We're fine. I still want this. I still want you. I told you that might happen, but it was worth a shot."

Eliot found his hand and kissed the wrist, right where the cuff had been.

"It's not a big deal. Spend enough time chained to random shit in hell, it's bound to make kinky sex a little complicated. That's all this is. Random crap I've got to deal with. I still trust you."

Eliot pinned him with that piercing detective look. Nodded once. Then slid back down between his legs, and got his mouth back on Dean’s cock. And maybe he was just really committed, but he was managing to go pretty deep this time. And those fingers were right back to playing with Dean's ass.

Dean's hands were drawn to Eliot like magnets. Not to push him off, or even to draw him closer. Right now, he just needed to reassure himself that it was okay to want the man in front of him. Wanting wouldn't be used against him, and it wasn't a sign of weakness. Those soft full lips and the wet heat of Eliot's mouth were a welcome distraction from the thoughts Dean had jarred lose, and before long the unpleasant memories had settled back into the rest of the background noise of Dean’s mind.

He was able to relax around Eliot's fingers just fine, but he'd lost a bit of whatever zen he'd managed to find so far.

Eliot pulled back, off his cock. His hands went to Dean's knees.

"You feel ready," he said.

He considered Dean. Who was hit, just by the full force of the mind behind those eyes. Took a few slow deep breaths, and let go of his expectations so he could just be in the moment. More of Lisa’s mindfulness stuff. A little new agey, but good stuff.

“Yeah. I'm ready. Are you?" It was a sincere question disguised as flirtation.

Eliot just took the little container of vaseline, and stroked some over his cock. He was intense, but that didn't automatically make him easy to read. 

"You're the guy who's the expert at reading people, not me. So you've gotta use your words. Talk to me. You good?" They’d made it this far without Eliot having some kind of crisis about being gay, which meant it was either going to hit him now or after it was all said and done and reality came crashing down. Or it might not happen at all, but Dean wasn't totally ready to let his guard down just yet.

Eliot raised an eyebrow. "Don't I look good? If something doesn't get done with my cock soon, I might go screwy."

Dean grinned. "I love the way you talk. It's old fashioned and sexy and fun. Like you. Okay, handsome. Fuck me already."

Dean dug his heels into the backs of Eliot's thighs encouragingly. "You've got this."

Eliot exhaled deeply. Then got his hands on Dean's hips, lined himself up. And began to push in, keeping all that focus on Dean's face, and breath. Watching, slightly concerned, for anything that looked like pain.

"Hey," Dean's voice was gentle, and genuine affection had replaced the flirtiness of earlier. He squeezed Eliot's arm in reassurance or encouragement or one of those other difficult-to-explain feelings. "You're a natural. Don't have to focus on me so much. You're supposed to enjoy this too. I won't break."

Eliot was further inside him now - big, stretching. Still going slow. That first slow push inside always felt amazing, and this was no different. Some things didn't change with time. His muscles tried to tense up again but Dean closed his eyes and focused on breathing through it.

"Talk to me, babe. I got this, but I need you to talk some if I'm going to be able to really enjoy this the way I want."

"Right," said Eliot. "I see you, I've got you. You feel good. Can't believe you're letting me do this. Kills me how fucking brave you are."

God, that voice. The way he talked. It was like he'd walked straight out of a movie. It did things to Dean. Wonderful things. Things he was pretty sure weren't entirely legal in 1944.

"I wanted you the minute you clocked me for being a hunter."

Eliot Ness was inside him, and it was doing wonders for Dean's ego. 

"Oh fuck, you're big. You feel as good as you look." He wasn't playing it up either. Maybe it was because it had been a while, maybe it was something to do with how much he'd fantasized about this or maybe Eliot was just that big. Either way, it felt like a lot.

Eliot was far enough in that he could stretch up and kiss Dean's neck. Then he slid into him, the rest of the way. And just lay there, holding Dean in his arms. Not moving. "To tell the truth, was worried about not fitting. Should have known you could handle it."

"I lucked out. You're a fast learner with a lot of natural... talent." Dean purposefully clenched around Eliot.

Eliot bit his lip and swore.

Dean laughed, which was an interesting feeling with someone that deep inside him.

Eliot had such a pretty face when he did stuff like that. When that iron control of his was shaken and Dean got a glimpse behind the curtain. It left him craving more.

Now he was slowly starting to move his hips, pull back. He pushed Dean's hair off his forehead. "What'll make it good for you?"

Dean grabbed Eliot's hand and kissed the inside of his wrist. "Keep going like this and we're awesome. Don't need anything fancy. This is good." Then he kissed the palm and added, "But now that you mention it, my cock's kind lonely down there. Think you could do something about that?"

Eliot's rhythm was getting firmer and more confident, but still just as slow. He felt heavy and hard as he rolled into Dean. And then he was up on a hand, changing the angle, and fingers slick with vaseline were around Dean's cock, stroking in time to that steady fucking. Every movement was so strong, and fluid, and he had a stray thought about how good Eliot must look when he fought.

Dean ran his hands all over those deliciously hairy arms and that lightly furred chest. And that bullet graze over his bicep. Left one hand there, while the other continued to explore every inch of skin he could reach.

"Glad we did things so you could touch me." It came out as a purr, when Eliot said it. His eyes were half closed in pleasure, sinking into just pure feeling. "You don't know what this means to me."

Dean moved with the rhythm set by Eliot's hips, alternately seeking out the fullness of his cock and the welcome pressure of his hand. Even when he made himself this vulnerable, Eliot still managed to be a vision of quiet masculinity. The kind of man Dean tried to be, but never quite lived up to.

"Do I come in you?” said Eliot. “Or am I supposed to pull out, like you do with a girl?"

Dean chuckled and went for another kiss. "In me is fine. On me works too. Whatever floats your boat." He took another deep breath and canted his hips a bit more, trying to find a better angle. "Hoping you can hold on a little longer? There's a spot inside. You found it before. If you could aim more towards my front?"

Eliot slowly shifted the angle of his hips, lowered himself down to his elbow. 

"I got a little more control than that," he said. "Just thought I might forget to ask, if I let it get down to the wire." He lowered himself even further, cock pushing up. And this angle allowed him to get at Dean's mouth. Just a light, electric brush of lips.

But it did something for Eliot, who started to pick up the pace. Both with the drag of his cock inside Dean, and the fingers on his shaft, rubbing the sensitive head.

Dean, who had been fairly chatty until now, was speechless. They'd definitely found the right angle, and now Eliot's cock was pretty consistently hitting his prostate with each thrust. And even when he didn't hit dead on, he grazed it. Dean was a little worried he might leave bruises, he was digging so tightly into the muscles of Eliot's back - but Eliot didn't seem to mind and Dean kept on using every bit of leverage he had, to fuck himself a little bit harder.

With each gasping breath fucked out of him, Dean fell a little bit more in love. "It's okay. I'm totally relaxed. Go for it. Fuck me ah-" Eliot hit his prostate so perfectly he sent Dean's thoughts scattering away for a moment. "Fuck me as hard as you want."

"That's good, doll. That's good. Just like that. Keep holding on tight like you're doing. Everything about you feels good."

Dean's hips jerked as he tried not to shout. Eliot was fucking, not faster but harder. Dean brought a hand up to his mouth to try and stifle any noises.

But Eliot gently took it away. "This place is soundproofed," he said, softly. "High security telegraph in here, way back when."

And he hit Dean's prostate dead on, again.

"Let me hear you."

Dean never got to just let go like this during sex. It was always quiet. It had to be. If it wasn't the neighboring motel rooms, or the kid asleep a few rooms over, there was always something. Sure there'd been a few exceptions, but it still averaged out to basically never.

But now that he had permission, he shamelessly vocalized _everything._ Every little gasping hitch of breath Eliot was able to wring out of him, every moan that felt like it had been ripped from the depths of his soul. He held back nothing.

"Oh god, Dean," said Eliot. "Oh god."

Dean whined and dug his heels in again. There was a shudder to his breaths now, as Eliot fucked deep into him again, and again.

"Come on. Baby. Come on. Eliot. Baby. Please."

The hand was off his cock and around his back, just holding him.

Dean was begging. He was a mess, and it was all thanks to this wonderful, magnificent, friggin sexy-ass man.

Eliot's muscles were tense and shaking, and he buried his face in the side of Dean's neck, saying half-words that didn't make any sense. Dean's hand flew to the back of his neck, his fingers digging into his hair. His other hand reached down to squeeze Eliot's thigh.

"You got this. Aah! Oh fucking- Yeah. You got this." He was shaking already. He wasn't sure he could last much longer.

And Eliot froze, and everything was tight, everything was contracted -

Then a long, slow, satisfied exhale, right up from the bottom of his soul. And he collapsed down into Dean's arms.

Dean tipped over the edge at about the same time. He came with an almost broken sounding cry as he spilled between their bodies, getting come all over their chests. He was a shaking, whimpering mess of sweat, come, and really fucked-out Dean, but he felt more like himself than he had for a while. Once he could manage a complete thought again.

He rode out the aftershocks still clutching tight to Eliot as he came down from their shared high. They would have to clean up, once Dean remembered which way was up.

Eliot got his muscles back under control first, damn him. He pulled out of Dean and then moved off him, falling heavily onto his back. Then silently, he laid Dean against his chest, and Dean went without a fight. He was in no condition to argue, and didn't really have any objections. Right now. He was mostly just a lump. A puddle of contentment in the shape of the person formerly known as Dean.

Eliot seemed happy to just hold him like that, and breathe slow and content and easy. Dean snuggled closer, and kissed whatever he could reach without moving.

His mind felt sluggish and half asleep, but he managed to wake up a bit by reminding himself that Eliot probably needed someone to talk to right now. Sleep could wait, and would have to. They really did need to get cleaned up. But that could wait just a little longer. 

Once he'd regained most of his muscle control, Dean raised up on one elbow and looked down at Eliot. Didn't say anything.

"Don't suppose you'd want to stay?" And Dean hadn't heard Eliot’s voice sound vulnerable like that. He didn't know it could sound vulnerable like that. "The FBI isn't after you in 1944. You could bet on all the elections during the primaries. Be here for the party, when the war ends. When we land on the moon."

Dean felt his heart break in two. Felt like he’d forgotten how to breathe. He sat there in silence for a moment, not breathing, while his face said everything for him.

"I can't. Not if there's a way back."

Eliot nodded. "I know. But I thought I'd ask."

"I don't know if this makes it better or worse, but I want to. I just can't."

Eliot held him tighter against his chest. "If anyone understands, it’s me. You have a job, and know you're the one to do it."

"Don't even know if I can, but I have to try." Dean thought about it for a second, despite trying not to. "Hell, I might stand a better chance at it if I stay here, but I still can't. Sammy's all I got left. He's gonna make some stupid deal to get me home. He's already been to hell and back. I can't do that to him."

Eliot kissed his forehead. "Shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

"We'll always have Paris."

Eliot closed his eyes. Shook his head. Smiled. "You just had to say that, didn't you?"

He came in to kiss Dean, careful and long and slow.

Dean kissed him back, just as slow, and at some point started crying. Not a lot, but enough to be noticeable. He'd thought it would all come crashing down on Eliot afterwards but he'd been wrong. The person getting hit the hardest by reality was - him.

Cas was dead.

Cas was dead and he left a hole in Dean's life he never could have expected and the first person he'd found who might be able to fill that place in his heart was stuck in 1944.

"Damn it," said Eliot. "I'm divorced. I drink too much. My star is fading. I got Capone, but cops are still crooked and there's nothing I can do about that now. Don't have it in me to be a politician. No head for business. Most of the money comes from being spokesman for a company that makes safes, did you know that? Hunting is the only thing that makes sense."

Dean kissed Eliot again to keep himself from doing something stupid, like praying to Cas because maybe time worked the same way for angels and he'd still be alive in the past. Even if he didn't recognize him, it would be nice just to get to see him again. Just to yell at him for getting himself killed.

"Don't cry," Eliot wiped some of his tears away. "You don't have to cry."

Dean wiped his hand down his face and tried to pull himself back together. It was kind of a lost cause at that point. But he still tried.

"Still wish I could stay. Not a lot going for me in the future either.”

Eliot gathered Dean up in his arms, and was quiet. "Would you want me to come with you," he said. Very carefully.

"You can't though. What about your life? Your kids? I mean, sure I wouldn't blame them if they never want to talk to you and they're probably safer without you but if something big tries to come after them you're gonna want to be there, right?"

Eliot squinted at him. And for about five seconds, just looked utterly baffled.

"Dean..." he said. "I haven't got any kids. Sex with women doesn't work for me, where would I get kids?"

"I don't know, I thought you figured something out or... you know." Dean shrugged, still confused and trying to figure things out. "So wait. Whose baby was it that rolled down the stairs in the big shoot out with Capone if it wasn't yours and Catherine's?" Dean had clearly watched that movie way too many times if he remembered the name of Eliot Ness' wife.

Eliot sunk his head into his hand, rubbed his temple. "My wife's name is Edna. I have never been in a shootout that involved _protecting a baby._ "

"Oh..." Dean was still processing, "Okay. That makes more sense. I can't see you as the type of guy to let that happen." He didn't mention that the movie didn't have him protecting the kid so much as recklessly endangering him. That didn't seem all that relevant. "I'm seriously starting to wonder if any of that stuff was true. You did at least arrest Capone, right? That was you?"

"Not personally. I did... personally conduct a prison transfer. Did not trust a single one of those guards."

Dean leaned his head against Eliot's chest and started laughing. "And no one knows about the hunting. They got everything wrong. All of it. It's all wrong, and you're still so friggin awesome."

Eliot got arms around Dean, and laughed into his hair.

"I mean sorry about the divorce, but how come you’re still walking around wearing that ring and torturing yourself about not making things work if she's alive and happy and there's no kids? And you think I'm a morbid son of a bitch." Okay maybe that was a little insensitive, but it was true.

Eliot leaned back against the headboard, ran a hand through his hair. "God, I don't know anymore." He laughed. "Because it was my fault I was never able to give her kids. Because I had these compulsions that were just wrong. Because Mr. Hoover was having a hard enough time with that rumor he wears dresses. The ring let me pretend that all that wasn't me."

"I have no idea what Hoover looked-" Dean corrected himself _"looks_ like. But if he thinks he can rock a dress I say more power to him. Probably not a smart move politically but politics, not my thing. Can't vote if you've faked your own death."

Eliot reached out, and held Dean's shoulder, firm. "You fall out of the sky and show me that actually there's nothing the matter with me. That when the world changes, it proves me right. I can't thank you enough."

"Don't thank me yet. It gets better, but then there's this-" Dean stopped himself. "It seems like the world is always ending one way or another. But yeah. A lot of us get a lot of stuff figured out a lot better between now and then."

"Nothing's ideal. But you get little wins. And the little wins... stack up."

Dean had to agree. "I've got you. For now. That counts as a win in my book."

He squeezed Eliot's hand in his, before kissing the back like the old fashioned gentleman he was pretending to be.

Eliot's eyes crinkled, and he laughed again. "I know your type," he said. "You're the type it's far too easy to be loyal to."

"Oh no. Don't you dare. This isn't _Titanic._ You don't get to be all “My Heart Will Go On.” This is _Casablanca._ So the second you send my ass back home I want you to go out and find yourself a sexy French policeman named Lou to begin a 'beautiful friendship' with." Dean made air quotes. "You can fight Nazis together. I want you happy."

Eliot looked at him, for a long few seconds.

"All right," he said. And smiled. "I'll fight my little battles here. They must mean something, and I must mean something, if I'm part of what's inspired you."

"How much crap did you make up for that autobiography if they were able to turn it into that movie?"

"Haven't written any autobiography yet. But when I do, I'll be sure to add in a fight with Capone where I’ve got a baby in one arm and a tommy gun in the other."

"That's not even how it happened in the movie, but I say go for it. See if anyone stops you." Dean was overcome with a fit of giggles.

"I don't expect I'll be able to write too much about what happens next. What with all the parts about Lou." Eliot winked.

"If you do find somebody, maybe figure out how to get me a letter somehow… _Back to the Future 3!_ I'm a genius!"

Eliot waited patiently for him to continue, a sort of fond expression on his face.

Dean sat up. "If I can figure out how to get a letter to him, I bet Sammy can figure out a way to get me back. I'll uh..." Dean hesitated, "I don't think he'd go for it if I told him I wanted to bring a buddy with me. He'll think it's Cas and that could maybe screw with the timeline."

Eliot turned towards Dean, and took his hands. "No. You did do my thinking for me. And you’re right. If I went back with you, I wouldn't regret it today, and I wouldn't regret it tomorrow. But I would regret it. Soon, and for the rest of my life. There's still work for me to do here. Even if it's not the work I thought it was."

Dean had to look away. "I want you to come with me. I know you can't, but I still want you to."

"I know.” Eliot touched the side of his face. “We should get cleaned up."

Dean stood and headed for the bathroom. "You got a working shower in this place? Something with hot water would be awesome, but we're gross so I'm not picky."

"We got hot water but no shower. There's a tub."

"Nice!"

Eliot stood up. "I'll run a bath. Ezra probably has something for us by now, far as weapons go. We've got us a god of time to kill. "

"Right. You do that. I'll get our clothes in one place for when we get out." Dean did need to retrieve his stuff from where it was scattered all over the place, but mostly he just wanted a diversion to let him slip his fake FBI badge in with Eliot's things.

If he noticed, then he noticed. But it only seemed fair to leave him with a picture to remember him by, when Dean was heading to a time where he could just google Eliot if he wanted to see his face again. 

It wasn't until later that he found what Eliot had left him.

After they had killed Chronos, and Dean was safely back in 2012. After Cas had figured out a way to come back to him. 

It was actually Cas who found the wedding ring Eliot Ness had slipped into the pocket of Dean’s jacket.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Find us on tumblr at [niche-pastiche](https://niche-pastiche.tumblr.com) and [wisteria-lodge](https://wisteria-lodge.tumblr.com).


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